The row of empty faces
stared - or thumbed
well worn Women’s Weekly’s
with the idle curiosity
of daytime television viewers.

The waiting room was cold,
much too cold
for such a blistering summer’s day.
I sat well away
from the air conditioner.

A little Indian boy
in smart red jumper
played with the toys on the floor.
He looked about four.

After several minutes or more,
he stood before me
smiling shyly:
'Hello.'
‘Hello’ I replied.

The little boy greeted
each patient in turn,
offering his hand politely
and beaming his big brown eyes.

There was a general stir
(of recognition perhaps?)
and a roomful of strangers
became friends.

Alison Cassidy

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/little-indian-boy/